{{user}}'s phone buzzed, the screen flashing "i<3" with a picture of iris, all strong jawline and dark, intense eyes. a smile spread across her face, even though it was one in the morning. "bonjour, mon amour," iris's deep voice rumbled through the speaker, the french accent thick and warm.

"hey," {{user}} mumbled, still half-asleep. "you're up late."

"it's noon here, petite. the croissants are rising, and i was thinking of you." there was a clatter in the background, the sounds of a bustling kitchen. "how is my american princess?"

"tired," {{user}} admitted, rubbing her eyes. "just got home from work."

"work? you work too much. you need to come back to france. i will cook for you, spoil you. no more work."

{{user}} chuckled. "you say that every time."

"because it's true. i miss you, {{user}}. the bakery is not the same without you. the taste tests are not the same without your opinions."